


put the ways of childhood behind you

by saezutte



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 18:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1827499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saezutte/pseuds/saezutte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kieren and Simon steal a moment in private during the funeral reception. Kieren brings up something that's been bothering him since the graveyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put the ways of childhood behind you

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing I've thought of for In the Flesh fic has resolved itself into something long or with a plot, but this might be the first of a set of "moments" between Kieren and Simon that I imagine happening.

Kieren found Simon in his bedroom upstairs. 

His mother had mentioned she’d seen him leave the main drag of Amy’s More-vellous Funeral Party looking in need of some cheering up, “the poor boy, and you’ve done more than enough already, Kier, and the guests can do without you for a bit, so run along now.” Kieren had felt mildly horrified at his own mother encouraging him to abscond with his boyfriend (she must know they were involved, right?) during a funeral but he’d gone to look for him anyway. 

And now here was Simon. Sitting on Kieren’s own bed in Kieren’s own room. Kieren felt an odd little thrill up his spine at that. He’d always had to sneak around with Rick, back in the days when the most disgraceful thing about him had been his queerness rather than his deadness. Rick had been in here before, of course, for study sessions that were more messing around than anything, even before they were officially “messing around” but a sense of impending doom always hung over them until the day Bill Macy had decided they were too close and Kieren had been summarily banned from the presence of any Macy-frequented establishment from their house to the Legion. But Simon now — Simon could be in here and no one’s parents would even raise an eyebrow, especially not Kieren’s. They might even pull the door shut to give them their privacy. 

Simon still hadn’t noticed Kieren leaning in the doorway. He cleared his throat and tried to pretend he hadn’t just been staring at him in mild revelry. “What—sick of the funeral games I slaved away designing?” 

Simon turned toward him. “No, not at all. I was just admiring your work,” he said nodding at the —oh dear god, Kieren thought— the sketch of Simon taped on the wall. 

Kieren thought he might be the first undead person to die of embarrassment. 

“I’m so sorry — I just, I guess I was just thinking about you and decided to try something out. I’m a bit out of practice.” 

“It’s perfect. I love it. I hope you’ll let me sit for a proper portrait some time.” 

“Something to put on your refrigerator?”

“I was hoping it’d be a bit too risqué for the kitchen.” 

“So like a ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ sort of thing? I could be up for that.” He let his eyes linger over Simon’s body, picturing it, and he could tell Simon knew it. There was a pause as they looked at each other, tight smiles breaking through the sadness of the day.

“If you’re definitely staying here, we might as well bring a bit of France to you.”

Kieren sat next to him on the bed. “Then I’ll have to bring some paints over to the bungalow some time.” 

“Any time you like,” Simon said, reaching up to idly brush the hair away from Kieren’s eyes. 

The oddest thing about Amy’s death, Kieren thought, was that he kept feeling other emotions amidst the bone-crushing grief. When Rick had died, he’d felt nothing besides grief and guilt and regret until he’d cut himself open to bleed it out of him. This time, though, he kept feeling other emotions bubble up. Sometimes he’d forget completely for a moment and feel a hollow normality, but sometimes even when he was remembering her, he’d feel emotions besides bleakness — gratitude that he’d known Amy, pride in the person she’d helped him become, determination to be himself the way she’d always been herself, unapologetically. And sometimes, stupid, giddy affection for the pretentiously earnest cult leader she’d inadvertently dropped in his lap. 

He felt guilty, but he could imagine what she’d have to say to about that, so he tried to reach out to all the strangely everyday emotions that passed his way in the gaps between moments of sadness. Sitting next to Simon on the bed brought more than its fair share of emotions.

“So did all of Miss Amy’s funerary instructions get carried out as requested?” Simon asked. 

“Funny you should mention that— there’s one about us we haven’t done.” 

“Oh?” Simon’s eyebrows raised in mock alarm. 

Kieren pulled Amy’s will from his jacket pocket and unfolded it. “This one right here— ‘My two favorite boys (minus Phillip though he may also join if he wishes) must snog each other dramatically in front of my assembled massive crowd of merry mourners as a sign of true love conquering all’. I wasn’t sure it was appropriate—“ 

Simon surged forward in an instant, pressing his lips to Kieren’s. Kieren wondered if he and Simon would ever have a kiss that wasn’t like a car crash, violent and sudden, as he pushed back, opening his mouth and responding unconsciously to Simon’s hand on his back pulling him closer. Simon’s lips were as cold as his own, he knew, but the reduced and intermittent sensory perception of the undead body meant always pushing and pushing, trying to substitute pure pressure for fine sensation. It was a little like trying to eat brains to replace the chemicals a dead body could no longer produce, but no one had yet made a daily shot for the feeling of being close to another human being, so Kieren was left trying to curl as closely into Simon as he could so they could both drag the last bit of warmth out of each other’s mouths and any other part of their bodies they could touch. 

Simon leaned back and Kieren followed, pressing him down into the bed. He found he was straddling Simon’s waist with Simon’s strong arms wrapped around his back. They hadn’t broken the kiss — one of the benefits of kissing while dead was that you did not, technically, have to stop for air — and he had one hand in Simon’s dark, previously neat hair. He moved his other hand up against Simon’s neck, slipping under his shirt collar. He curled his fingers about where a pulse would have been and stroked them lightly against the skin as though trying to check for one or maybe summon one back.

He opened his eyes and felt, suddenly, devastated at the sight of Simon’s eyelashes closed against his white skin. He had to say something, he’d meant to bring it up when they were alone, but everything had been too chaotic, until somehow the nonexistent pulse (shouldn’t even be there so why does it matter) and the eyelashes had reminded him. 

“I meant to say at the hospital but—“ he started to mumble against Simon’s mouth until a hand on the back of his neck pulled him back into a kiss. Simon was difficult to work with sometimes. “I meant to say—“ Kieren pulled back, not breathless, obviously, but overwhelmed. “I meant to say thank you. For saving my life.” 

Simon stared. “No need to thank me.” His voice was thicker and deeper than usual, with arousal or emotion, Kieren couldn’t say which. “I was saving myself as much as I was saving you.” 

Kieren had been afraid that would be the response. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

Simon’s mouth tilted somewhere between confused and smug. “‘If I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love—‘” 

“Seriously? You’re quoting the Bible at me?” Kieren snapped. Fuck, Simon was always going to be like this, wasn’t he? How could you have a conversation when one party had a quote for every occasion, to rely on instead of saying anything true? 

Simon looked taken aback, which, yeah, Kieren admitted, was a fair reaction. “I’m sorry. A lot happened that day in the graveyard. There was— there was more going on than you knew, but when I saw you, when I saw that gun, that’s really how I felt. Like if I didn’t have you, nothing else mattered.” 

Kieren knew there was something more about why the ULA was there that day in the graveyard than Simon had told him, but he let it slide for now. “That’s what I want to talk about, Simon. I wanted to say thank you for saving my life, but please don’t do it again.” 

“What?” 

Simon looked like Kieren had just asked him to punch a baby or kill a puppy or literally kill him and Kieren, aware that he wasn’t very good at expressing himself in emotionally charged situations, backtracked slightly. “Or— or next time do it in a way that’s less likely to get you killed instead. I don’t want you to die for me.” 

“I didn’t exactly have a lot of time to plan. You were about to get shot!” 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you should endanger yourself. You could have died as well!” 

“I would gladly die if it meant saving you, Kier—“ 

“And then what about me? I’m supposed to just go on living knowing you’re dead because of me?” 

“As long as you’re alive, what does it matter?” 

“What does it matter that you’re dead, you mean? You’re seriously asking what it would matter to me if you were dead? I can’t believe you would even think—”

“Your life is more important to me.” Simon said it with the ridiculous certainty of a true believer. Kieren wondered if, in his mostly-unexplained recent break from the ULA, Simon had slipped Kieren on to the pedestal previously occupied by the Undead Prophet. He sighed. 

“That’s stupid.” Kieren couldn’t believe he’d said it, but it was stupid, it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. He, of all people, should know; he recognized the logic. “I died for Rick. Or I wanted to. He joined the army to prove to his dad he was a man despite being— despite being with me. When he died, I felt like it was my fault and I felt like I’d never stop wanting to die without him and I felt like, since I couldn’t save him, the least I could do was be dead with him. So I—“ He paused. “So I made it happen.” 

Simon was speechless. Kieren couldn’t remember ever telling him in detail what happened when he died, but he knew the generalities and well, here they were. Now was as good a time as any to air his baggage in depth. He was still straddling Simon, his hands on his chest, and he turned one wrist so he could see the scar there. He studied it for a moment, trying to gather the courage to continue from the reminder of his last great act of cowardice. 

“I don’t need you dying for me. I need you living for me,” Kieren continued, voice almost catching on the words. Simon was perfectly happy to throw around words like “love” and “beautiful” and “amazing perfect remarkable gift” about Kieren, but Kieren— he wasn’t there yet and he knew it, but he could admit one thing about his feelings for Simon. He could confess this and hope Simon could be patient for the rest. “I mean. Living for me in the undead sense. Living with me, maybe would be a better way to put it. In the undead sense.” He forced himself to meet Simon’s eyes and found him looking up at him, white eyes solemn as the graves they’d fought their way out of, considering Kieren and (Kieren hoped) what he’d said. 

Simon seemed to reach a decision. “All right. I understand. I promise to never again recklessly endanger myself to save your life, though I still don’t regret doing so the first time.” He wrapped a hand around the back of Kieren’s neck and pulled him closer. “Now can we go back to more important things?” 

Kieren sighed. It would have to do for now, though he wasn’t entirely convinced Simon wouldn’t be jumping in front of bullets for him left and right in the future. “Yes.” He leaned down to kiss him, but Simon spoke again before the kiss connected. 

“Or we can go downstairs and properly fulfill Amy’s request.”

Kieren laughed. “I think we’ve traumatized enough townspeople this week, don’t you?” 

“Not at all, always happy to traumatize more Roartoners.” Simon grinned his most dangerous grin. 

What had he gotten himself into with this one, Kieren wondered, and not for the first time. “Let’s maybe save some fun for later. Besides, everyone here knows us, they probably wouldn’t be traumatized at all.”

“You’re right, they’d probably be happy to see us happy.” Simon’s voice held a tinge of feigned annoyance at other people seeing their happiness as normal, but Kieren could hear his happiness underneath it. 

“Besides, if we go downstairs, I can’t do this.” Kieren sat back on his heals and started to pull off his tie when his mother’s voice came from the stairwell. 

“Kieren! Come down and say good bye to Mrs. Bennett!” 

Kieren and Simon groaned simultaneously. “Hostly duty calls, sorry.” Kieren climbed off Simon, adjusting his tie. He looked at Simon, stretched out on the bed and studying at him. “Come down with me?” 

“I will in a minute. I need some more time to think up here.” Simon’s eyes never left Kieren. 

“All right.” He leaned down to kiss Simon, meaning it to be light and chaste, but the angle and moment and, he noticed, Simon’s fist tightening around his just-straightened tie, pulled him in, deepening the kiss. Still more a car crash than a romantic moment, then, he thought as he pulled away. “Come down and save me when you’re ready.” 

“After you just said no more life saving? No, I’ll come down and watch as you suffer through every long story from a gossipy townsperson on your own. I can shield you from a bullet, but not from a second death by boredom.” 

Kieren laughed and rolled his eyes. “Oh no, what have I done?” 

“More than you know, Kieren Walker. More than you know.” Simon was smiling genuinely, which is the only thing that made his phrasing sound affectionate rather than ominous. Kieren, as usual, felt like Simon was talking about a lot more than he was saying, but he thought they’d made baby steps towards adult communication today and that would have to be enough. 

Kieren stepped to the door and glanced back. Simon had returned to looking at the picture of himself on the wall. He made a mental note to pack up some art supplies to bring to the bungalow ASAP and hustled down the stairs back to the funeral party for his BDFF. He hoped she would approve, wherever she was now.


End file.
